


Light at the End of the Tunnel

by Politzania



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Powered, Fluff, M/M, No Smut, Pining, Pop Culture, Pre-Slash, Romance at Work, Working on the Railroad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 10:18:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5662672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Politzania/pseuds/Politzania
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’d just finished checking in with the last of his roomette guests when he felt a tap on his shoulder.  He turned around and was nearly face to face with Tony Stark.  The genius, billionaire, playboy,  philanthropist himself,  in the extremely attractive flesh. </p>
<p>“Uh hi.  Are you the ... butler... steward ...  guy in charge  around here?”  He took off his sunglasses and .... wow.   </p>
<p>“Yes, sir.  My name’s James, and I’m the attendant for this car. Sorry I haven’t checked in with you quite yet - we’re full up at the moment.  What can I do for you?” He dropped into his “service drone” persona almost in self-defense.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Light at the End of the Tunnel

This wasn’t where James thought he’d be for his 25th birthday - alone, in the middle of nowhere. Well, not exactly alone; the train was full of Boy Scouts, college kids from a dozen different countries, and little old ladies on ElderHostel trips. But they were his guests and would be gone in a matter of hours. The other attendants and conductors were nice enough, but he didn’t feel like he fit in with them. 

He’d told everyone that he’d taken this job to see the country, but really it was to leave the city where he’d failed so spectacularly. Why had he ever thought he could make it as a classical pianist? Maybe he had the talent, but apparently not the drive, the willingness to pursue it at any cost. He’d burned a few bridges, that was for sure - his family, his friends.... 

At least he still had Steve on his side. Once they pulled into Chicago, he’d give the punk a call & see what he was up to. His last email he said he was working on a new song and might have it ready to send over for accompaniment in a couple of days. They’d put a few songs together already, but hadn’t gotten anything picked up by a publisher yet. 

James made his rounds, checking in on his guests one final time. He actually enjoyed taking care of people; he guessed he always had. All the way back to digging Steve out of scrapes on the playground and sitting with him when he was sick and his mom had to work double shifts. He had considered following Mrs. Rogers' example and going into nursing; but since he’d pissed away so much money chasing his first dream, he couldn't ask his parents for more. 

One good thing about this job was it covered room and board for each run, so he could save up most of his earnings. He was good at the customer service aspects of the job and the tips he got usually reflected that. Little old ladies were the most generous, even if some of them got a bit nosy. He'd learned not to expect much from the overseas students, since tipping wasn’t part of their culture; however, their stories more than made up for it. Even the Boy Scouts were more of a positive experience than a negative overall. So his life wasn't what he thought it would be.. it wasn't so bad. 

He had a 20-hour layover in Chicago and had let Clint know he’d be back in town. When James left New York with his tail between his legs, his high school pal had offered him a place to stay while he got his life back together. In fact, it had been Clint’s suggestion to apply for a job at Amtrak. His room at the apartment nowadays was mostly just a place to stash his stuff, but he chipped in on the rent and the arrangement worked well for both of them. 

“The prodigal son returns ... with pizza and beer!” Clint greeted James as he walked through the door. Lucky bounded over to say hello, and a familiar redhead waved from the couch. 

“Hey, Nat - didn’t expect to see you here.” They had a ... complicated past, but he thought they were on good terms now. 

“Last minute business trip - Clint didn’t know I was in town til I showed up at his door." 

They dug into the pizza, and after chatting for about an hour, James pled exhaustion and retired to the guest room. He powered up his laptop as he got ready for bed and found an email from Steve. 

> Hey Buckeroo -  
>  Here’s the first couple of verses & chorus - I plan to add another couple verses, but they’re not quite coming yet. :^) I’m trying to make the song unisex, so either a pop tart or boy band could use it = more marketable! :: crosses fingers:: Any cute Boy Scout jailbait yet this season? ;^}  
> 

He tried to call Steve, but it went right to voicemail, so he just typed out his response. 

> Stevarino -  
>  Chasing underage tail would get my ass thrown off the train so quick! Besides, you know I’m into older guys... I aspire to become a kept man! ;^D I’ve got two more Chicago to LA round trip runs coming up so don’t know when I’ll have a chance to work on the song, but will do what I can. Hope the summer humidity isn’t playing hell with your asthma.  
> 

He read through Steve’s lyrics - he liked the imagery in the chorus, and could already hear a basic melody coming together, so he started a new file in Garage Band and tinkered with it until much too late. He had a tough time getting to sleep afterward; spending so much time on the rails, it was a little disconcerting to not feel the bed rocking in rhythm. 

James made it back to the station with about 20 minutes to spare the next day and checked in with his supervisor. He was pleased to see he had been assigned to the same car he’d had the last trip, so he knew how everything was organized, and what to expect. 

He reviewed his passenger list - it would be a full house to start, with quite a bit of turnover. One name jumped out; but nah, it couldn’t be him. It's not like the guy didn't have a corporate jet at his fingertips. James put the list aside and continued with his prep work. The train had actually pulled out of the station before he had a chance to complete his initial meet and greet with all of his guests. 

He’d just finished checking in with the last of his roomette guests when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around and was nearly face to face with Tony Stark. The genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist himself, in the extremely attractive flesh. 

“Uh hi. Are you the ... butler... steward ... guy in charge around here?” He took off his sunglasses and .... wow. 

“Yes, sir. My name’s James, and I’m the attendant for this car. Sorry I haven’t checked in with you quite yet - we’re full up at the moment. What can I do for you?” He dropped into his “service drone” persona almost in self-defense. 

“You’d think multiple engineering degrees would help me figure out how to adjust the temperature in my room, but alas, I find myself stymied. Can you give me a hand when you have a minute?” Stark’s little self-deprecating shrug was dangerously adorable, and James realized this passenger was going to be a challenge for all the wrong reasons. 

“No problem - the setup is a little quirky. Most everyone needs a quick orientation. Let me show you around.” He gave his guest the nickel tour of the compartment and its features. Stark had already unfolded the table, which was covered with miscellaneous electronics. 

"Before I go, when would you like to have dinner? We ask that our sleeper car guests make reservations so we can provide the highest level of service possible." It was just as well he could recite these bits from the OBS standard script in his sleep, because James was still freaking out just a little over having Tony Stark as one of his passengers. 

"You know what would be awesome? If I could get my meals brought to me. I know that makes me sound like an entitled jerk, but it would probably make everyone's lives easier. I kinda tend to draw crowds and I'm not feeling up to being on stage this trip. I promise to make it worth your while, James." 

So help him, but that last sentence just about made his heart skip a beat. He would move heaven and hell to make this man happy, but better to underpromise and overdeliver, just in case. "I'll see what I can do, sir. If you'd like, you can check our menu online at the website." 

"Sounds like a plan... I'd better let you get back to minding the store." Stark clapped him on the shoulder, then sat down, presumably to do some work. 

James floated through the rest of his checkins, then went to the dining car, prepared to offer just about anything (up to and including sexual favors) to finagle room service for Stark. He'd had a celebrity crush on the man for years and still couldn't quite believe he was here on the train. Fortunately, Banner was head of dining services this run, and James was able to spin a bit of a white lie, saying one of his passengers had limited mobility and would prefer to take his meals in his room. 

"As long as you're willing to do the legwork, James, we can make it happen," replied the easygoing chef. "We'll need his order early, though, say by about quarter after five." It was almost five already, so he hightailed it back to his car and knocked on Stark's compartment door.

"Willkommen. Bienvenue. Welcome. C'mon in," he heard his guest say in a terrible German accent. 

"I'm here to take your dinner order, sir. Unfortunately, schnitzengruben isn't on the menu." James couldn't resist replying with another reference to one of his favorite films. 

"Congrats - I hardly get anyone recognizing my Mel Brooks quotes anymore! Any recommendations grub-wise?" 

"Well, sir, we’re known for our steak, but the chicken is also quite good." 

"I'm not feeling too hungry - think I'll go with a burger. And you can drop the 'sir', I get enough of that from my bossy AI."

James gave him a questioning look, and Stark continued. "JARVIS, introduce yourself."

A disembodied British voice spoke from the electronics set up on the table. "Hello - I am JARVIS - Just a Rather Very Intelligent System - designed by Sir to assist him with his work and tolerate his verbal abuse." 

"Nice to meet you, Jarvis." James decided to play it cool. " Let me go put Mr. Stark's dinner order in. I'll be back within the hour." 

"I'll be counting the minutes, James." Stark replied, with a broad smile. Was he flirting, or was it just his own overactive imagination? James got the order in, made sure his other passengers were taken care of, and had just enough time to sneak in a quick text to Steve.

_JBB: OMG Steve!!! you'll never guess who I have as a pax - Tony Stark!!_

_SGR: THE Tony Stark? Hot damn, Buck - you hit the jackpot. He's in your top 5 fuckable celebrities, right?_

_JBB: Like I need to be reminded, tyvm_

_SGR: So - you gonna hit it? ;-)_

_JBB: Yeah - like I’d have a chance - I'd have better luck with the Boy Scouts_

_SGR: But Stark's legal - and then some... Sugar daddy?_

_JBB: Don’t even go there - later, punk_

He tapped on Stark's compartment door to deliver his dinner; hearing a "mmph" sound, he slid open the unlocked door. His guest's attention was entirely focused on what James assumed was a holographic projection. He watched, fascinated, as Stark manipulated the image, making it grow, shrink, and rotate; finally pulling a piece out and throwing it back over his shoulder. He then shook his head and blinked, noticing James for the first time. 

"Oh, sorry. Hope you weren't there long - I get a bit hyper focused sometimes... one of my many flaws. Thanks for waiting." He moved a piece of equipment to make room for the tray. 

"I took the liberty of adding a brownie to your order- they're really good." James said, as he set the tray down and removed the cover. 

"Grandma always said the way to a man's heart is through his stomach." Stark replied, and actually winked. James’ knees went weak for a moment - pretty hard to misinterpret something like that. But Stark was probably just that flirty and charming with everyone. 

“Okay... so, page me when you’re ready for me to pick up your dishes. Also, I’ll be swinging by later this evening to make up the bed. What time would be good?” James played it safe, retreating behind his standard operating procedures once again. 

“Is 11:00 or so too late? I’m pretty much a night owl.” 

“That’s fine, Mr. Stark. I’m on call 24 hours, since we can get passengers boarding any time of the day or night. In fact, I may be a bit later than 11, since I have guests coming on in Kansas City about quarter after 10.” 

“Not a problem. Gives me new respect for you and your compatriots - there’s no way I could be pleasant and charming to complete strangers on that kind of schedule." James was pretty sure Stark could be charming at any hour, and quashed the desire to find out for himself. 

“Just part of the job. Can I do anything else for you at the moment?” He caught a mischievous glint in Stark’s eye, but he simply thanked James and said he’d call if he needed anything. The rest of the evening went smoothly. Stark paged James to pick up his dinner dishes about an hour later; once again engrossed in his work, he barely acknowledged James’ presence. 

Most of his other guests asked for turndown service between nine and ten pm; in fact, he had to help boost one of his ElderHostel ladies into the upper bunk of her compartment while both she and her roommate giggled uncontrollably. He was just thankful she was wearing pajamas and not a nightie. 

The train arrived in Kansas City right on time, and James met his new guests and said goodbye to the ones who were disembarking. He helped a couple of the little old ladies with their luggage and got fussed over a bit, then hung around outside to get some fresh air, as well as to make sure everyone who was supposed to get back on did so. He returned to Stark’s compartment just after 11, to find the door partway open and unintentionally overheard a snatch of conversation: 

“Rhodey, we’ve been over this. The company needs her more than I do. I have to respect her decision.... I know, I know... but I just had to get away... lick my wounds in private. Yes... yes... I’ll be in LA day after tomorrow. I’ll keep you updated. You take care too, man.” 

He knocked, and waited for Stark to open the door. The electronic equipment had been put away, but now paperwork littered the table. Stark took off a pair of reading glasses and rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Oh, hey James - sorry about the mess. I’ve got another pain in the ass request. I brought a set of sheets to put on the bed. Not that I don’t trust your linens, but you know, a bit of home and all that.” 

“Not a problem, Mr. Stark. Quite a few people bring their own bedding. And to be honest, after some of the escapades I’ve seen people get up to in these rooms, an extra layer between you and the upholstery is a pretty good idea.” With a comically shocked expression, Stark slowly got up from the chair he’d been sitting in, giving it a horrified look. James stifled a laugh. 

“Considering the debauchery that’s happened on the Stark Industries jets, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Apparently there’s a separate line item in the budget for steam cleaning the interior after each flight.” 

“So, why didn’t you take a jet for this trip, Mr. Stark?” The question escaped James’ lips before he realized how inappropriate it was. He knew better than to pry into his customers’ lives. The easy smile Stark had been wearing turned brittle, and he wished he could take it all back. 

“Well, thought I’d see a bit of the country this way... you know, recharge my batteries, all that B.S.” James was dismayed to see the funny, sweet man he had been interacting with all evening suddenly turn into the Tony Stark of the tabloid headlines. “I’ll get out of your way - I need a breath of air, anyways.” He pushed past James and stalked down the hallway. 

James quickly made up the lower berth, with the standard linens underneath the amazingly soft sheets that Stark had brought. He caught a slight scent of something woodsy and warm from the linens and resisted the temptation to bury his face in the pillow. He wrote a quick note: “Sorry for prying,” and left it on the bed.

James banged his head against the wall a few times when he reached the end of the hallway. Open mouth and insert foot; an old trick he hoped he’d grow out of someday. He pulled out his phone to send a quick text to Steve - he was probably asleep already, but he needed to vent. 

_JBB: Please tell me I’m not a colossal fuck-up._

_SGR: Well, not colossal... ;^) What’s going on?_

_JBB: Just spoke before I thought w/ one of the pax - you know me..._

_SGR: It can’t have been that bad - you’re a jerk, not an asshole. Well, except when you wake me at nearly 1am when I have a TA gig at 8..._

_JBB: Sorry punk - g’night._

James was restless, and decided to run through the clean up chores he’d normally take care of first thing in the morning. He returned to his quarters and had just dozed off when his pager buzzed. It was for Stark's room. James was surprised to see him already at the door and he didn't look good. His hair was a mess, he was sweating, breathing erratically and seemed to have trouble focusing his gaze. 

"Mr. Stark, are you alright?" he asked quietly. 

"No, James... Not really." He paused for a moment, then shook his head. "God.. I feel like such a needy bastard. I'm sorry to be such a bother. Go back to bed." He sounded exhausted, defeated. The train jolted over a rough bit of track and James reached out to the doorframe to steady himself, placing his hand just above where Stark seemed to be holding on for dear life. 

"It's no problem, honestly. What can I do to help?" 

"Well .. It's been a pretty shitty week for me, and I woke up in a strange place after a nasty recurring nightmare. I just needed to see a friendly face, ya know?" He managed to look both abashed and oddly hopeful at the same time, and James' heart went out to him. Without even really thinking about it, he put his hand on top of Stark's and squeezed it comfortingly. 

"It's okay - I've been there myself. I guess we all need some human touch once in awhile."

They stood in silence for a moment, then Stark cocked his head a little and asked, "Wait a minute, did you just quote a Rick Springfield song at me?" 

"Hadn't intended to, but I suppose I did." James replied, with a wry grin.

"How do you even know that song? You're what ... 22?"

"Just turned 25, but my parents raised me right - Mel Brooks movies, classic Saturday Night Live reruns and cheesy pop songs from the 80's. I bet my mom still has her Duran Duran Fan Club membership card in her wallet.” He heard a soft huff of laughter from his guest and continued. “From the looks of things, your tastes run more toward classic rock," pointing towards the well worn (and close-fitting) AC/DC t- shirt that Stark had on.

"I’ll have you know that my musical tastes are wide and far-ranging," he replied. “My Spotify playlists range from ABBA and Adele to Zevon and Zappa, Mozart to Murder Squad, White Stripes to Black Sabbath to Simply Red. Springfield is in there somewhere, I’m sure. Speaking of music, what's your last name, James?"

The non sequitur caught him by surprise. "Barnes. But why.." 

"Ah-ha! That's why you looked familiar!” Stark interrupted. “You were one of the featured performers at the Juilliard student recital this spring. Your performance of Liszt’s Sonata in B minor was absolutely gorgeous! So what are you doing working here?” 

The question hung in the air for a moment before Stark continued. “Wait... let me guess... you wanted to see the country, recharge your batteries... in other words, none of my business. Fair enough. And on that awkward note, I’d better let you get some sleep.” He stepped back into his compartment and started to slide the door shut. 

“Okay... so breakfast runs from 6:30 to 10am - but if you leave a note on your door with what you want and when you want it, I’ll take care of it, Mr. Stark.” James was well and truly thrown by the direction their conversation had gone, and couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“I’ll do that. Thank you, James. For everything. Good night.” Stark’s voice was warm and sincere, with a ghost of a smile around his eyes as he closed the door. James took a deep breath, running through the events of the past ten minutes in his mind. Nothing in the policies and procedures manual ever touched on this particular situation, and neither had his personal experiences. So he went back to bed. 

Six a.m. came awfully early the next morning. James put himself together as quickly as possible, then started his day. Several of his roomette guests were early birds - they went down to breakfast by 8am, which gave him a chance to reconfigure their rooms back to normal. He saw a slip of paper sticking out of Stark’s door, and retrieved it. 

_J - Sometime in the vicinity of 10am - please bring all the coffee you can carry. Black as sin, sweet as your smile. A thousand thank yous - T  
PS: 1K more thanx if you can scare up donuts._

Stark’s handwriting was too precise for James to assume he was misreading the second sentence. Blushing, he tucked the note away. He finished resetting the majority of his guests’ rooms by 9:45, and headed to the dining car. After buying two packages of donuts from the snack bar, he swung up to the galley to grab two carafes of coffee, a mug and a double-handful of sugar packets, which he stuffed in a pocket. 

James tapped out a “shave and a haircut” knock on Stark’s door, and got two raps in reply. He must’ve just gotten out of the shower, as he was rubbing at his damp hair with a towel as he opened the door. James hoped his eyes hadn’t gone too wide and mutely handed over one of the carafes. 

“Thank god, you took my need for consuming mass quantities of caffeine seriously! You are an angel in a polyester uniform.” James thought Stark was actually going to drink straight from the pot, but instead, he picked up an oversized mug off a shelf, poured a cupful and took a sip. He winced and raised an eyebrow, so James pulled out several sugar packets from his pocket and handed them over. 

“I couldn’t quite quantify the level of sweetener you requested, Mr. Stark.” he stated, trying very hard not to blush. 

“Yeah, I suppose I did wax a bit poetic. Oh - and I think after last night, we are on a first-name basis. If it was good enough for Walt Disney, it’s good enough for me.” Stark added four sugars, stirred, sipped again and sighed contentedly. 

“Whatever you say, Uncle Tony.” James replied, with a bit of a smirk. 

“Oh ho - a bit of sass with my morning coffee, eh? Give you an inch...” He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Oh, and for what it’s worth? The whole “Daddy/Uncle” ageplay thing - not one of my kinks.” 

James bit his tongue so as not to ask Tony what his kinks were, instead handing over the remainder of Tony’s breakfast request. “I wasn’t sure if powdered or chocolate donuts were what you were asking for.”

“Equally ambrosial this morning. Any chance you can stick around and share them with me?” James reviewed his schedule; he had about a half-hour before they reached the station at Raton. 

“I’ve got a little time to spare.” They ended up splitting the donuts and polishing off both carafes of coffee as they watched the scenery go by. James felt more than a little wired after breakfast, and he didn’t think it was just the sugar and caffeine. He checked in his new guests, which left him with a full house again and coming up on lunchtime. James knocked on his new favorite guest's door just after 2:00, with his lunch order of “cheezeborger, cheezeborger, cheezeborger - no Pepsi, Coke.”

“Who is it?” Tony sang out in a falsetto. 

“Plumber.” 

“I don’t need a plumber - you’re that clever shark, aren’t you?” Tony replied. 

“Candygram... for Mongo.” 

“No fair mixing references! Get in here, ya goofball...” He opened the door and practically dragged James in. The small table was once again covered in electronics, and another holographic display was hovering in midair. He couldn’t help but stare, trying to figure out what it was. 

“Beautiful bit of engineering, if I do say so myself,” Tony murmured, standing pleasantly close behind James. “Latest iteration of the arc reactor - I’ve finally got it down to tabletop size. Once we get a stable supply of palladium and a couple of other rare elements, this could eliminate the need for a power grid entirely.” Tony rested one hand on James’ shoulder as he pointed out some of the features, manipulating the image single-handedly. It was fascinating, but he had places to go and people to take care of. 

“Mr. Stark, may I be excused? My brain is full.” he joked. 

“Oh - sorry, James. I keep forgetting you’re on the clock. You’re just so damned easy to talk to. Hey - I noticed we’re going to be at the Albuquerque station for almost an hour later this afternoon - think you can help me sneak out to stretch my legs?.” 

With a minimal disguise of sunglasses and a ball cap, they exited the door at the very end of the train once they got the all clear to disembark at the station. Tony was disappointed to learn there was no caboose, but then wandered about a little, apparently enjoying the sunshine. They snuck back on with five minutes to spare, and once back in his compartment, Tony did a small celebration dance. “Good lord that felt good - no paparazzi breathing down my back, no well-meaning but socially inept fans....” 

Just this one, James thought. But he’d been good, he hadn’t asked for any selfies or an autograph; however, he had taken the note from this morning back to his room and stashed it away for safekeeping. The evening was uneventful; despite being at 100% capacity in his car, everything flowed smoothly. Tony had asked James when his meal break was, and if he could time his own dinner delivery accordingly. They talked music and pop culture as they ate, and James was truly reluctant to return to his responsibilities. 

Tony had requested a late turndown service again, and as James made his final rounds for the night, he got to thinking. Even with getting out and about at Albuquerque, he was probably getting a little stir-crazy. Understandable, as most people would have issues with being cooped up in a 6 1/2 by 7/12 foot room for nearly two days, but he also sympathized with Tony’s reluctance to deal with the other passengers. So James came up with a plan, albeit a somewhat self-indulgent plan. He checked his favorite astronomy blog to confirm the correct date, and returned to his favorite guest’s compartment. 

“Hey, Tony.... tonight is supposed to be the best night to see the Pleiades meteor shower and I bet we could get a good view from the lounge car,” he blurted out in one breath before he lost his nerve. 

“Sounds like fun - can’t do much stargazing in New York or LA. It’s a date.” James assumed the last bit was just in fun, but the sparkle in Tony’s eyes as he said it gave him pause. They made their way to the lounge car to discover it was nearly deserted. There were a couple of people sitting down at the far end, so they staked out a spot in the corner furthest away from the other passengers. 

As their eyes adjusted to the dark, Tony talked about the first time his parents took him to the Griffith Observatory, and James described his most recent visit to the Adler Observatory during a stopover in Chicago. The three-quarters moon didn’t make for ideal conditions, but they did spot a few meteors streaking across the sky as they looked out into the darkness. 

“Feel free to tell me to bugger off, but are you doing anything with your musical training?” Tony quietly asked. 

James’ hackles went up momentarily; but he realized Tony had no agenda, he was just curious. So he shared how he and Steve collaborated on songwriting and were trying to get something picked up by a publisher. 

“I’d like to hear them sometime - your songs. Do you work on them while you’re on the train?”

“Sometimes - I’ve got the software I need on my laptop and a scaled-down keyboard. Of course, I’ve had a needy passenger on this run who’s been monopolizing my free time...” He nudged Tony slightly, to make sure he knew the comment was just in fun. 

“I resemble that remark, James. And I told you I’d make it worth your while.” Tony's voice had dropped into a sexy semi-whisper that gave James a shiver down his spine. They sat in companionable silence for several minutes, catching sight of a couple more meteors, when Tony suddenly said, "These shooting stars are defective."

"Huh?" James was a bit sleepy and had just noticed that Tony was leaning against him, head resting on his shoulder. “How’s that?” 

“Well, you’re supposed to wish on shooting stars, right?” 

“Yeah...” 

“I’ve made the same wish on the last half-dozen stars and it hasn’t come true yet.” 

“What was it? Or are you not supposed to tell?” James wasn’t sure what wish protocol Tony was following, or where he was going with this in general. 

“Looks like I’ll have to.... I was wishing you would kiss me.” James turned toward him, assuming he’d heard wrong or Tony was just teasing again, but the look in the other man’s eyes was unmistakable. He slowly raised his hand to cup Tony’s face, tilting it up slightly to carefully fit their lips together. 

What started off tentative quickly stepped up to heated; it was so easy to forget where they were and just focus on the moment. James was both astonished and aroused by the sounds Tony was making, each little moan and gasp only fanning the flames. 

When they finally came up for air, James suggested, “How about we move somewhere a little more private?” 

Tony responded a bit dazedly, “Private.... private would be good.” 

They disentangled themselves, and made their way back to the sleeper car. James hadn’t made the bed up yet, so they sat across from each other in the armchairs and after a few moments of awkward silence, Tony spoke. 

“So, yeah - that was amazing ... but I’m not so sure anything else is a good idea right now.” James was disappointed, but not surprised. He’d let his imagination run wild for a moment, but he couldn’t escape reality. But then Tony continued. 

“You see, I really like you, James. But, as I said earlier, I’ve had an awful week and things are likely to get worse before they get better. I don’t have the time or energy to get involved with someone. I’d mess something up and you’d be gone ... trust me, I’ve done it before.” 

“Wait, what?” James wasn’t sure he’d heard right... could Tony actually be interested in more than a quick fling? 

“Please, let me finish. So, yeah - I can’t do this right now..... but that doesn’t mean not ever. Once this shitstorm is over - might be a few weeks, might be longer - I’d like to go out on some dates and see if there could be something between us. That is... if you’re interested.” For most of this little speech, Tony had been looking down at his hands, but once he finished, he met James’ eyes. “Or we could just have a wild one-nighter and call it good.” And there was that little shrug again, and this time it was damn near heartbreaking. 

“You know, while hooking up with Tony Stark has been on my Top 10 Fantasy To Do list for longer than I care to admit, I’d much rather get to know this guy I just met. Amazingly smart and thoughtful, with a wicked sense of humour and eccentric taste in music and films. He’s a pretty good kisser, too.” James tried, but failed, to keep a straight face. 

“Is that so? I guess it’s just as well about the quickie - I haven’t been able to get my hands on any Vitamin E for awhile.” Tony replied with a grin. “But seriously... you’re willing to just... hang on the line for a while?” 

“I can be pretty damn patient when there’s something worth waiting for. And I assume we’ll stay in touch - text, email, phone calls...” 

“Naked videoconferencing..” Tony interrupted with a mischievous grin. 

“Probably not while I’m working,” James shot back with a smirk, “but it’s not off the table.” 

“I like the sound of that.... any chance I can get a sneak preview?” 

They quickly realized that there wasn’t enough room for a strip tease in the compartment. Tony suggested reenacting a sexy version of the “From Russia with Love” train fight, (complete with a lousy attempt at replicating Sean Connery’s accent), but they settled for a mostly-clothed make out session. 

James tried not to flinch as Tony reached into his partly-unbuttoned shirt. Not that he didn’t intensely desire the contact; but he was self-conscious about his scars. When Tony’s touch grew tentative, as if he would do further damage, James felt compelled to explain. 

“I fell out of a tree when I was eight years old. It was pretty bad - compound fractures of both my clavicle and humerus. Took months to heal and all sorts of hardware. My piano teacher was pissed at first, but then found exercises and pieces I could play just with my right hand.” 

“Triumph over adversity, one of the many things I admire about you, James. That and the thing you’ve been doing with your tongue... ” 

They stayed up the rest of the night, talking more than anything else. James once again resented having to return to his job - he had 3 passengers disembarking early, before the final Los Angeles stop at 8:15am. He was concerned that he had missed seeing Tony off, as a couple of his little old lady guests took their sweet time getting off the train and saying their goodbyes to “such a nice young man.” If only they knew what he’d been getting up to ...

But Tony was waiting, wearing his three-piece suit as if it were armor, sunglasses resting on his head for a helm. “You’ve got my number; direct line, no Stark Industries secretaries or any bullshit like that. Call any time of the day or night and I’ll respond as soon as I can, no matter what time zone. I’ll keep in touch and let you know when my life is my own again.” His eyes scanned back and forth for potential observers as he leaned in for a goodbye kiss. 

James backed away slightly with a wicked smile, “Taffeta, darling.”

“Couldn’t resist another Brooks quote, could you? C’mere!” Tony grabbed him, tilting him back into an overly-dramatic kiss. He then tucked something into James’ pocket and gave him a quick salute as he stepped onto the platform. James watched him walk away into the station with a pang of loss. 

He opened the envelope Tony had put in his pocket a bit hesitantly; the usual cash tip would make the last several hours feel a little sordid. But instead there was a name and a phone number, with an added comment. “This guy at BMG Chrysalis owes me a few favors. Tell him Stark sent you, and he’ll give you and Steve a fair shot. Knock ‘em dead, sunshine.” 

\-------------

A few months later, James was flipping through the radio stations as Tony eased his latest automotive acquisition through the turns of the PCH on their way out to Malibu. 

“I swear, James, if you make me listen to Seacrest’s blathering again, I won’t be responsible for my actions.” 

“And I thought you’d support my successes, Tony m’love. Here we go...” 

And making its way into the Top 10 this week, here’s CeeJay with “End of the Line” 

> Out of hope  
>  End of my rope  
>  So damn broken-hearted 

> You walked in  
>  With a grin  
>  Something could get started

> Traveling mile by mile  
>  It might take a while  
>  Going round the bend  
>  Til we get to the end  
>  Of the line ... of the line... of the line 

> On a date  
>  Kinda hate  
>  The looks that we’re receiving

> You don’t care  
>  Let them stare  
>  Now you’ve got me believing

> Traveling mile by mile  
>  It might take a while  
>  Going round the bend  
>  Til we get to the end  
>  Of the line ... of the line... of the line

**Author's Note:**

> A big old No-Prize to anyone who gets all the pop culture references... come say hi over on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/poliz-writes)!


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